The Box in the Living Room: Round 3

They Return

After sampling a lot of the new shows this season and sharing my thoughts I figured it was only fitting that I take a few moments to remark about some of the returning shows and their grand season premieres. Note that all the shows I’m talking about here are ones I actually watched most or all of last season. Other than Veronica Mars (which I’m TiVoing but not watching until the Season 1 DVD comes out so I can catch up) the only returning show that I watched this year but didn’t watch last year is Smallville, but only because HB and Gin love that show and had us TiVo it for some reason so they wouldn’t miss it. I ended up watching it with them but I won’t comment on it since I was more or less lost and playing catch-up the whole episode. I’ll stick with what I know.

Also, for completeness’ sake, I’m coining a new phrase here. Some of the shows I watch are admittedly soap operas. There’s no way around it: The plots revolve around the more or less mundane existences of the characters rather than some fantastical events occurring to heroic or reluctantly heroic protagonists. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a show like that; character-driven dramas can be just as intriguing as action-driven ones when done right. However, there comes a point when the seeds of the true soap operas, the daytime variety, and all their ugly hack-written dreck bubbles to the surface in a painfully overwrought sequence of “I’m your long-lost twin brother and I’m here to tell you the wife you thought was dead is really still allive” sort of eye-rolling schmaltz. When a show gets all über-cheese like that, I call it dropping the soap. It’s when people react to circumstances that are not inherently worthy of high drama as if they were matters of National Security, or when something happens so far out of the realm of plausibility that one must completely destroy their sense of disbelief, and then the writers ask you for one more leap of faith.

So, moving on.

Alias

Ah Alias, how I used to love you. Remember when you were a fun, quirky show about a sexy secret agent trying to lead a double life of normal grad student and international super spy? Remember when you would feature an ensemble of interesting characters and fantastical mythology story arcs held together by a likable, chameleon-like lead? It seems like only yesterday when you had crisp writing and sharp dialogue. When you took chances with plot lines and weren’t afraid to shake things up. I remember those first couple of years when it was like you could do no wrong. Every bold twist, every unexpected turn, every moment of romantic tension, every fight scene seemed to happen with a certain boldness. Anyone might die! Anything could happen! It was… thrilling.

I miss those days. Sure, when you introduced a two-year gap in time, I was a little skeptical. The love-triangle central story line in our third year was at times trying but you held on to some of your early promise. I still felt like you wanted to do right. Lauren being introduced as Vaughn’s wife was worthy of an eyebrow twitch. Lauren turning out to be a bad guy was a bit hard to swallow. Lauren being a double-agent and getting killed by Vaughn was at least a relief: It was over. We could get back to Sydney and Vaughn or, more specifically, we could get back to dream-sequence-less Alias without all the drama.

Then came last year. I had so much hope going in! It seems naïve now, I know. Another system reset. Bring the team back together, oh and here comes Sloane again. I guess he’s a good guy now, huh? Sure. We got less mythology. We got more one-shot, standalone episodes. I felt like it was getting hollow, a shell of what we once had. Where was my reward for four years of loyalty? What was the hook if there wasn’t a complex set of crosses and double-crosses and triple-crosses? Just some chick in funny costumes doing (yawn) another roundhouse kick to the head? Wake me when something happens.

I guess you tried to bring the mythology back toward the end. But it wasn’t good. It was getting sloppy, maybe even stupid. What happened to those writers? The ones I used to admire for their boldness? A remote town in Russia? Sydney off the hook because she has a sister she didn’t know about? My interest wasn’t just slipping, it was racing downward on a greased track. Oh look, a giant red ball of bad CGI. How terrifying.

I was just about to leave. Just about to walk out the door when the final scene of season four made me pause. The abrupt car-crash ending, while ripped straight from the movie The Forgotten, was effective. Oh, I had my skepticism. Vaughn is a double agent? Uh, no. As a matter of fact he is not. I can suspend disbelief, but it does not soar or hover on its own power like a helicopter or a particle of dust. It needs some kind of support, and I wasn’t getting any of that. Still, still I can’t deny I was intrigued. Alias writers have pulled off some even more unlikely twists before. I owed it to you and you deserved one more chance. For old time’s sake.

What a fool I was. Maybe your father, J.J. Abrams is too busy with his real show, his one true love, Lost to bother anymore. Maybe he’s handed you off in a Gene Roddenberry-to-Rick Berman kind of lapse in judgement to people who simply don’t get it. Maybe the writers have gotten to the point where there isn’t anything to do but get silly. I don’t think so, though. Silly is okay. Stupid, intelligence-insulting crap is not okay.

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